Harder Than You Dare
by pingnova
Summary: Jonathan is a bullied twelve year old with morbid interests. New neighbors move in, a man and a twelve year old girl who never wears shoes and only comes out at night. He soon discovers that they harbor a dark, bloody secret. "How old are you really?" "Twelve. But I've been twelve for a very long time." Let Me In movie fusion AU.


Jonathan shuffled through his newspaper clippings. There was a murder on fourth street—again. Not even a month ago there had been a double homicide on the same street. He taped the new clipping next to the older one and considered the chances that the local police would begin to see a pattern in the next few months.

He sat on the floor of his bedroom, a small single room halfway full with just his bed. A telescope aimed at the sky sat on a tripod by two large windows. He'd been trying to find stars, but for the past couple months the wintry weather had been hiding them. In the meantime, he had the perfect view into his neighbors apartments, the complex's entrance, and the courtyard in the middle of the buildings.

Closing his scrapbook of crime clippings, he set it on top of his dresser, pushing aside miscellaneous knick knacks. His hand paused when it grazed a folding knife. Picking it up, he turned it over, watching light from outside flash of the dark casing. He grit his teeth and put it down again.

Grabbing the eyepiece of the telescope, he angled it downward towards the window of a couple who had been fighting pretty mercilessly the past month. They were settled on a couch, hands all over each other, shirts half off. Seemed like they made up.

One of them turned to the window and met his eyes. Jonathan dropped to the floor, praying he hadn't been seen. In a couple minutes, he peeked into the lens again. Their curtains were closed.

He swung the telescope around, looking for more windows. Instead, he locked in on a yellow taxi dropping off two people at the gate to the courtyard. It was an older man and a young person, a girl his age. The man followed the girl into the apartment complex, struggling to haul a trunk almost as big as him.

They disappeared into the entrance and Jonathan put down the telescope. He'd never seen them before. They must be new. An idea hit him. He ran into the front hall, pushing himself onto his tiptoes to see through the peephole in the door.

Just like he guessed, the man and girl walked by his door. He popped the door open slightly, just enough to see into the hall with one eye.

The apartment next to Jonathan's was empty. The landlord had been struggling to rent it for the past couple months. Their complex wasn't in a particularly desirable working-class suburb. Why anyone would move here, Jonathan didn't know.

The man keyed into the empty apartment and hauled the trunk inside. In the few moments that the girl came into view, Jonathan noticed that she wore a purple skirt, her hair was sticking up everywhere, and her feet were dirty and bare despite the snow.

School was an unpleasant but necessary part of Jonathan's life. He wasn't anyone popular, he had no close friends and only did a decent job grades-wise. Extracurriculars weren't part of the equation and he was too skinny and short to join a team, not that he would want to.

He shucked off his shiny gray parka in the locker room, trying to get ready for gym before Zack showed up.

Zack was an older student who had been passed over by the football team a few times and Jonathan was sure he never got over it. He had to reassert his masculinity by degrading Jonathan on a daily basis.

Jonathan cried out when the locker door slammed on his hand. Behind it was Zack, leaning on the locker bay with a big grin on his face. Two faces hovered behind him, his cronies Donald and Kenny.

"Hey, little girl," Zack said.

Jonathan clutched his hand to his chest and said nothing. In a quick movement, he tried to turn and run, but Zack had already grabbed the back of his shirt. Screaming, Jonathan resisted being wrestled to the ground, throwing hands off his body and shouting for all he was worth. He couldn't let them pin him down. He did everything he could. For a moment, he thought of the folding knife on his dresser.

"Grab his arms!" Zack was saying to Donald and Kenny. "Grab his legs!"

Someone was pressing his face into the cold, salty floor of the locker room. There was weight on his wrists and ankles and back. They were so much bigger than him. If he had his knife he could—

This time he screamed not because he wanted to draw attention, but out of terror and pain. He didn't want anyone to see whatever Zack was doing to him. It was cold comfort knowing that no one ever helped Jonathan, so no one would show up now. Everyone was already in the gym.

Zack did it again and Jonathan choked on a sob. He pulled Jonathan's underwear out of his pants and yanked it up his back. A wedgie. A really painful, humiliating wedgie.

"Stop!" Jonathan said, wriggling under all the weight. "Stop, please!"

"I bet you like stuff up your ass, little girl!"

"Stop! I'm not a little girl. I'm not a little girl!" Jonathan yelped again. He pressed his face further into the tile, tears running down his face as he felt something hot and wet spread down his pants.

"Dude!" Donald stumbled off of Jonathan and and smiled. "He peed himself!"

Zack and Kenny got off him like he was contagious. All Jonathan could do was lie there as they continued taunting him. Zack kicked him once in the side and then the three left for the gym, pushing each other and shouting, "Little girl peed herself! Little girl peed herself! Come see!"

Jonathan hated school.

The jungle gym in the apartment complex's courtyard was covered in snow again. Jonathan's mom let him play outside at night as long as he promised to stay within the courtyard fences. He probably shouldn't be playing on the jungle gym when it was slick with new snowfall, but he was only sitting on the second tier, humming the Now & Later candy jingle under his breath.

His mom was on the phone with her lawyer. She and his dad were having a hard time deciding on the terms of their divorce. Jonathan didn't want to be in the apartment while she discussed the particulars. They talked about where he would be and who he would see like he was a thing, not a boy. It always gave him a delicate stomach ache.

A figure moved into the light at the edge of the courtyard. He watched them approach, chewing candy and humming. Bare feet and wild hair came into view. It was the girl who had just moved in.

She silently climbed to the tier above Jonathan and watched him back. Jonathan turned back to his candy. If she wanted to say something, she should just say it, because he wasn't going to start any conversations.

"Hi," she eventually offered.

Jonathan nodded to indicate that he had heard.

They sat in silence for a long while again.

"I want to be alone," she said.

"So do I," said Jonathan, kicking the snow on the tier below him. "I've lived here longer, you're just the new girl. Find somewhere else to be alone."

"I'm not a girl."

"Oh. Then why are you wearing a skirt?"

"Because I want to."

He couldn't argue with that. Jonathan rearranged pronouns and expectations in his head.

"I will never be your friend," the new boy continued. "Just so you know."

Jonathan dropped his wrappers in the snow and jumped down to cover them up. That was really straightforward and random. "Who said I wanted to be your friend anyway, huh?"

He could feel the new boy's gaze on his spine as he walked into the complex's entrance.

He was settling into bed when the shouting began. It came from directly behind the wall next to his bed, from the apartment that the man and boy had just moved into. Curious, he sat up and pressed an ear to the wall, trying to make out what was being said. He didn't hear anything definitive, just the sharp crack of a door slamming closed. It hurt his ears to hear.

The next day at school, a crowd gathered outside the principal's office. Jonathan stopped to see what the fuss was about. He glimpsed the blue of a police officer's uniform through the office windows. Then they were called to a school assembly.

A recent graduate of the school had been killed. They found him hanging upside down from a tree, strangled to death, all of the blood drained out of his body. The officers wanted to remind them to report any suspicious activity. They thought it might be a satanic cult.

Jonathan sighed. They'd watched a PSA on satanism the other day in class. He was under the impression that anything remotely strange was attributed to it. A good quarter of his newspaper clippings mentioned suspected satanism. He'd never seen any of the suspicions substantiated and figured that they wouldn't be substantiated this time either.

Hearing a giggle, Jonathan turned in his seat to see Zack and his cronies laughing quietly in the back.

"You scared, little girl? Huh?" Jonathan took a threatening step towards the tree, lashing out with his folding knife. He grunted with each stab, the only sound in the snowy, dark courtyard. If only the tree was Zack.

"What are you doing?"

Jonathan jumped and turned to face the voice. It was just the new boy. Barefoot, as per usual. Wearing a dark hoodie over his clothes.

"Aren't you cold?" Jonathan couldn't help asking. He was wearing a thick parka and two pairs of pants and he was still chilly.

"I don't get cold," said the boy.

Jonathan pocketed his knife. What a weird boy.

The boy climbed onto the jungle gym. He picked up Jonathan's Rubik's cube, which he'd put down to practice stabbing the tree.

"What is this?"

Jonathan settled on a lower tier. "It's a Rubik's cube. You turn it, like this. To get all of the same colors on one side."

"Is it a puzzle?" the boy guessed. His stomach growled loudly.

Jonathan nodded. "You want to try?"

The boy stuck out his hand and Jonathan passed him the cube. He spun it a few times, turning it over in his hands, fascinated. There was another stomach growl. Jonathan watched his face morph through a few unreadable emotions.

"What's your name?" Jonathan finally asked.

"Sock," said the boy, putting the cube in his lap. "What's yours?"

"Jonathan. How old are you?"

"Twelve. How about you?"

"I'm twelve and three months and two days old. When is your birthday?"

Sock looked down at the puzzle and shrugged. "I don't have one."

Jonathan's eyes widened. "You've never had a birthday party? With presents and cake?"

Sock shook his head. "It's okay."

"It's not. You can have that," Jonathan pointed to where the Rubik's cube rested in Sock's lap. It paled in comparison to twelve years without birthday presents, but it was a start.

Sock shook his head and handed the cube back. "No, it's yours."

Jonathan accepted it for a moment, then shoved it at Sock. "You can borrow it. Don't you want to try to finish it?"

The boy nodded and hesitantly took the cube back, holding it like it was made of glass. They sat on the jungle gym for a few minutes in silence while Sock continued to turn the cube and Jonathan contemplated a life without birthdays.

"Jonathan!" echoed around the courtyard.

Jonathan turned to their apartment's window, where his mother was leaning out to call for him.

"What?" he called back.

"Dinner!"

"Coming!"

He looked at Sock, who seemed absorbed in the cube.

"I've got to go," he said. "I guess, see you tomorrow?"

Sock smiled in a way that didn't reach his eyes and Jonathan took off.

There was yelling on the other side of the wall again that night, and more slamming doors. Jonathan had to wonder just who was fighting. The older man, the boy's dad? With his son? It didn't sound like Sock.

What would they have to fight so hard about?

On the way to the school bus, Jonathan found the Rubik's cube on the jungle gym, completed. Smiling in amazement, he picked it out of the snow and checked. Yep, all of the colors were on the right sides.

He passed a memorial on the school's fence to the former student who had been murdered.

 _Scotty_ , it spelled out in cups lodged into the chain links.

Flowers littered the snowy ground and notes were tied with ribbon to the fence.

A poster was propped on the ground: _We miss you. We love you. Gone too soon_.

That night, Sock was already on the jungle gym when Jonathan got there. He was smiling.

"How did you do it?!" Jonathan hopped up onto the second tier, just below Sock.

Sock shrugged and mimed twisting the cube. "I just turned it. Do you want to know how?"

Jonathan nodded and proceeded to mess up Sock's instructions.

The dialogue of an old _Romeo and Juliet_ movie droned in the background. There was a snap as Zack flung a rubber band at another student from his seat. Jonathan ignored all of it. He was absorbed in a book he'd checked out from the library. It was on morse code.

He could hear some of the fighting through the wall, so he reasoned, why not knocks? He chose a few useful phrases and wrote them down in a notebook to show Sock.

Zack sat up to try to see what he was doing. The teacher snapped at him to sit back down. He slumped into his seat with a sullen expression.

Jonathan used the bathroom between classes. He was peeing in a stall when there was a knock on the door. He ignored it. Another series of knocks. Then a loud pounding that made him jump and miss the toilet.

He flushed and opened the door. It was Zack. Donald and Kenny stood blocking the door.

"What were you writing in Kirk's class, little girl?" Zack demanded.

Jonathan stayed silent. Talking just provoked them.

"Not gonna talk?" Zack extended a thin metal pointer. He'd probably stolen it from Mr. Kirk's chalkboard.

Without warning, he whipped Jonathan across the legs. Jonathan flinched.

"What were you writing?"

Zack did it again to his torso. Donald cringed.

"Tell me!"

Zack raised his arm and swiped the pointer across Jonathan's face. This time he whimpered. It sliced his cheek open. A thin line of blood dripped down his face.

"Dude," said Donald. "Let up."

"What?" snapped Zack.

"How's he going to explain that to his mom?"

"We don't have to worry about that, because she's not going to tell anyone anything. Right, little girl?" Zack grabbed the front of Jonathan's parka and glared into his eyes.

Jonathan shook his head.

"You just need to be careful, okay honey?"

Jonathan's mom spooned some macaroni and cheese onto his plate and pat the top of his head. He'd bandaged the cut once he was home and told her that he'd fallen off the playset at school.

She sat down on the other side of the table and began to pray. "Come, Lord Jesus and God, be our guest. Let these gifts to us be blessed…"

Jonathan wondered where God was supposed to have been today.

Jonathan dug through his backpack while Sock continued to narrate how he was solving the Rubik's cube. He wasn't really listening.

"Sock," he interrupted. With a flourish he pulled out the notebook and flipped to the page of morse code messages. "Look, we can send messages through the wall."

Sock slowly took the notebook. "You can hear through the wall?"

"Only a little," Jonathan admitted. He'd never considered that Sock wouldn't want him to hear. He shouldn't have told him.

"What have you heard?"

"Not much. It's muffled. Knocks would be better."

Sock kept staring at him.

"Alright, I've heard a bit. Why is your dad so mad?"

Sock just shrugged and handed the notebook back.

"Are your parents divorcing? My parents are divorcing. Where is your mom?"

"She's dead."

Jonathan set his jaw. He didn't know what to say to that.

Sock reached out a hand and stopped just before he touched the bandage on Jonathan's cheek. "What's that?"

"It's just some kids at school." He kicked his feet and pretended to study the morse code sheet. This wasn't something he particularly wanted to talk about.

"Jonathan, listen. You have to hit back."

Jonathan looked at Sock, skeptical and a little afraid at the thought. "But there's three of them."

"Then you hit harder. Hit them harder than you dare, and then they'll stop."

"What if they hit back?"

"You have a knife."

"Yeah, but what if that doesn't stop them?"

"Then I'll help you." He took his hand and gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm stronger than you think."

Jonathan stretched his mouth into a thin smile. He wanted to believe Sock, but they were both pretty scrawny. If it wasn't for his big puffy parka, Jonathan would look like a stick bug. And shoeless, quiet Sock? Fighting off three older boys at once?

He couldn't imagine it, but he did appreciate the thought.

He fell asleep that night to knocking on the wall.

 _Goodnight_ , he said.

 _Goodnight_ , he got back.

Jonathan glanced around the dark room, only moving when he noticed the sound of the shower spray from the bathroom. The master bedroom was empty, his mother taking her time to wash up at the end of the day. Her purse sat on the dresser underneath a picture of white Jesus taped to the vanity mirror. He rummaged around inside until he found her wallet. Two, three, four… Five dollars. He crumpled them into his jacket pocket.

He paused suddenly, glimpsing a pair of eyes out of his sight line. Looking up, he was met with the blue of white Jesus's irises. A little color rose in his cheeks. He didn't believe like his mom did, but it still felt like white Jesus was judging him.

Quickly, he tiptoed away.

"See? You have to try to get the dots, and avoid the ghosts. Watch." Jonathan yanked the joystick around, left, right, up, right again, trying to keep Pac-Man alive. But with another left he ran into the pink ghost, and the sad game over jingle sounded in their little corner of the drug store's arcade.

But Sock was smiling. He wanted to try. Jonathan felt like he'd won anyway.

"Do you want anything?" He gestured to the candy case as he grabbed a stick of Now & Laters. "You can have anything."

Sock wasn't smiling anymore. "No, it's okay."

"Are you sure? You can try some of mine."

"I don't want anything."

"I guess this is it, then," Jonathan mumbled to the cashier, who promptly rung up the cheap candy. He handed over a crumpled bill, not quite frowning, but definitely not smiling.

Noticing Jonathan's dejection, Sock coughed awkwardly. "I guess I can try one."

Jonathan's face lit up as he tore open the Now & Laters. He handed Sock a piece. "You'll love it."

Sock chewed and flashed a smile. "It's good."

The next thing Jonathan knew, he was chasing after Sock, who stumbled into the parking lot clutching his stomach and hacking the candy into the snow. He clung to a car and breathed heavily for a couple minutes until it seemed like the episode passed.

Sock slowly righted himself and turned to face Jonathan, blinking in the light from the drug store's windows.

"I'm sorry," he said, and offered no explanation.

Jonathan simply hugged him. Sock was tense and cold. His chin was in the crook of Jonathan's neck and shoulder.

Sock took a breath. "Do you like me, Jonathan?"

"Yeah."

"Would you like me even if I wasn't a boy?"

"What do you mean?" Jonathan wasn't sure where this was going. He adjusted the hug. "I don't know. I guess. Why?"

"No reason," Sock whispered. The falling snow almost swallowed it up.

He dreamed they were knocking back and forth. He'd send a message and get one back. But eventually Sock's messages got longer and longer. Until Jonathan woke up. Something was knocking on his window.

"Can I come in?" Sock asked in a hoarse whisper.

Jonathan settled further into his bed and nodded.

"You have to say it."

"Mm?"

"You have to say, 'Come in.'"

"Come in," Jonathan mumbled. He felt the floor tremble as Sock hopped inside.

Floating in and out of sleep, Jonathan didn't realize Sock was in his bed until he had settled under the covers. Jonathan began to turn to see him when Sock put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Don't look at me."

Jonathan went back to facing the wall. Sock smelled funny. Tangy, kind of like iron.

"How did you get up here?"

"I flew."

Jonathan opened his eyes purely to make an incredulous face. Then he closed them again and decided to ignore it. He had a more pressing issue to address. With a deep breath, he popped the question.

"Sock, will you go steady with me? Will you be my boyfriend?"

"I'm not a boy."

"You're not a boy?"

"No."

"Then what are you."

A few beats of silence. "I'm nothing."

"You know, it's okay if you don't want to be my boyfriend. You don't have to make stuff up."

"Look, can't we just keep things the way they are?"

"Mmhm," Jonathan grumbled. He was getting sleepy again.

Sock shifted in the bed. "Do you have to do anything special when you go steady? Everything is the way it is?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'll go steady."

Jonathan smiled a little. Just as he began to drift, a cold hand cupped his face. He leaned into it.

Sock whispered, "Goodnight."

Sock was gone the next morning. Jonathan's window was wide open.

Gym that day was outside. A short hike from the school was a frozen pond popular with skaters and ice fishers. They were to play hockey or just skate around. It was blindingly bright, Jonathan could see his breath. He would rather be inside.

"Be careful of the holes over there," Mr. Zoric, the gym teacher, gestured to part of the pond as students laced up their skates and began to wobble onto the ice.

Zack shoved Jonathan as they got on the ice.

"You're going swimming today," he leered. Donald and Kenny laughed from behind him.

Jonathan spent the class hunting for a self-defense tool along the edges of the pond. He pulled a fallen stake out of the snow. It was heavy, metallic. It looked like it had been part of a temporary fence not long ago. He swung it a few times and tapped the ice, testing the weight.

"Hit back," he heard Sock say.

Zack and his cronies approached.

"What do you think you're going to do with that?" he asked, keeping his distance.

Jonathan tightened his grip on the stake. "I'm going to hit you with it if you try anything."

"Really? Wow. You know what I think? I don't think you're going to do a fucking thing. You're going to stand there like the little girl you are and I'm going to take that stick and ram it up your ass and then… you're going swimming." He held out his hand. "Give me the stick."

Zack took one step forward and Jonathan hefted the stake into the side of his face, yelling with the effort. Zack immediately paused, eyes wide, then collapsed screaming onto the ice. The cold metal had cut through his ear, splitting the shell in half. Blood gushed down his face as he rolled on the ice.

More screaming began to come from the other side of the pond. All of the students had gathered around the place that the river connected with the pond. Mr. Zoric was attempting to break through the crowd to see what was going on.

There was a human arm frozen into the ice.

Zack passed out.

After a lecture in the principal's office, in which he was almost suspended, Jonathan learned that a recovery crew had cut a dead body out of the ice. His class had assisted with a missing person case.

Mom was on the phone talking to one of Dad's friends when the doorbell rang. Sock hadn't shown up at the jungle gym. President Kennedy was on TV and that was it. Jonathan wasn't doing anything anyway. He hauled himself off the couch and answered the door.

"Hello," the officer behind the door said to him. Jonathan just stared at him. His mom had always told him to not talk to strangers. Cops were no exceptions.

The officer awkwardly adjusted his tie. "Is your mom or dad here?"

Jonathan called for his mom.

He returned to his room. Noticing a bright flash outside his window, he grabbed his telescope to investigate.

One of his neighbor's apartments was full of policemen. They were marking things in the living room with evidence tags and taking photos. Jonathan put two and two together. They found a body in the pond, an officer wanted to speak with people in the apartment complex, his neighbor's apartment was full of evidence.

His neighbor was dead. Killed, probably, if they were putting this much investigative effort into it.

Jonathan remembered a few other articles in his scrapbook. The homicide rate was skyrocketing in this area. The officer at the school assembly had said that they suspected it was a satanic cult, though Jonathan had his doubts about that.

There were a few of knocks on the wall.

 _Hello?_

He rushed to reply.

Students flowed out of the front doors. Jonathan trotted through the crowd, seeing his bus up ahead. Then he stopped. Zack was there, just around the corner. He backed up until he was hidden behind a wall, watching Zack join Donald and Kenny by their bus. There was a giant bandage over Zack's ear where it was still healing from Jonathan's retaliation.

An older boy jumped on Zack, pushing him around, pressing on the bandage. "How's the cripple? How's the little girl?"

Zack wrestled him off and Jonathan noticed the resemblance. This was Zack's infamous older brother, Jimmy. He'd been suspended on many occasions, and the teachers definitely breathed a sigh of relief when he graduated. He still hung around the school, though. To visit friends and his younger brother, he claimed. Everybody knew he was looking for opportunities to vandalize and terrorize the younger kids, like Zack didn't already do enough of that.

Zack made Jonathan nervous enough already without Jimmy there too.

Jonathan took the long way around to his bus.

It had become a routine. At night, Jonathan would meet Sock in the courtyard. Sock would keep trying to teach Jonathan to solve the Rubik's cube and they would quickly stray to other topics. It became a pillar holding him up. His scrapbook of newspaper clippings had been getting dusty as a result. Somehow, Jonathan couldn't bring himself to care. He was just so excited to spend time with Sock.

"I got a big stick and hit Zack in the head," Jonathan told Sock. "He had to go to the hospital. I almost got suspended. It was like you said, Sock. I had to stand up for myself."

"I'm glad it worked out," Sock smiled and leaned in to give Jonathan a kiss on the cheek.

Jonathan blushed hard. Then he grinned. He knew just what to show Sock next.

They snuck into the basement of the building. Jonathan came to a heavy metal door and wedged his foot inside, shoving it with his shoulder until it reluctantly opened. Grasping at the wall, he found the light and switched it, illuminating an unfinished basement with chairs, a stereo, a ping pong table, and graffiti all over the walls.

"The guys in high school would come down here to drink and smoke and play. One of them, Mark, would play ping pong down here with me when they weren't around. I don't think any adults know about this place."

Sock inspected the stereo setup, smiling. "This place is pretty neat. What do we do down here?"

Jonathan contemplated. There was something he had read about in a pamphlet about satanism once. "I have an idea. Keep your eyes closed."

Sock closed his eyes, still smiling. "Okay."

Jonathan dug his flip knife out of his pocket. In a slow deep cut he sliced into his thumb until blood was running across his palm.

Sock's eyes snapped open.

"Let's make a pact. It only hurts for a second."

Sock was staring at Jonathan, then at the slice in his thumb, then the gathering puddle of blood on the floor below his outstretched hand. His stomach gurgled. With a gasp, he fell to the floor like it was magnetized.

Jonathan retrieved his hand, suddenly unsure. Danger was emanating off of Sock in waves. He was feeling the same natural fear he had of fire and sharp objects. Like it was right to be afraid of Sock. Like he might do something to Jonathan.

Sock licked up the blood off the floor and growled, "Go away."

"Sock?" Jonathan tested the waters.

Sock looked up from the floor and Jonathan took a couple steps back. The life had left his face, it was gray and his skin was flat like wax. His eyes were silver and slit like a cats. They focused on Jonathan and he growled again, louder this time.

"Go away!"

Jonathan didn't move.

Sock shouted a deep, masculine shout and pushed Jonathan aside, rushing out of the room faster than humanly possible.

Jonathan stayed in the basement as the slapping of Socks bare feet receded into the distance.

What had just happened? Sock had a reaction to the blood, it had turned him into something… else. Jonathan didn't know what.

He returned to his apartment. In his bedroom, he noticed lights outside his window. It was an ambulance and police car. EMTs were loading one of his neighbors with her neck torn open onto a stretcher. There was a huge splatter of blood around the divot her body made in the snow, spreading from the neck in wide wings.

Wrapping a bandage around his finger, he replaced the knife on his dresser and went to his mom's bedroom.

She was passed out facedown on her bed, hand on the phone. She must have fallen asleep talking to someone. Probably the lawyer again.

"Mom?"

No answer.

Jonathan reached for the phone in the kitchen. He curled up on the floor and dialed his dad with a shaky finger.

It had been months since he had last seen his dad. Mom moved out with Jonathan into this small apartment and Dad stayed in the house. He kept promising to visit but never did. Dad would know what to do. Jonathan just needed to hear his voice, at least.

The headset stopped ringing when he picked up.

"Dad, can I talk to you?"

"Yeah, sure, pal. What is it?"

"Do you think… Do you think there's such a thing as evil?"

"What? What are you talking about, pal?"

"Can people be evil?"

"Where are you getting all this stuff? From your mother? All her religious crap." Dad roughly adjusted the phone, creating a staticky sound. "You know what, put her on the phone."

Jonathan had lost him. He sucked in a tight breath. A tear fell down his face, stinging the cut on his cheek. "She's not here right now."

"Oh, okay. Tell her to call when she gets back."

"Dad?"

"Jonathan, I want you to get that crap out of your head. She has problems and I'm going to talk to her. Alright? I'm sorry about the last couple of months, you know? I love you. Next weekend, maybe. I promise."

Jonathan sniffled. "I love you too." All the response he got was the dial tone.

He dropped the phone and allowed himself to curl up further and begin to cry big fat tears with big fat gasps for air.

There was no knocking that night.

Jonathan bobbed on his feet outside the door, waiting for Sock to answer. When he did, Jonathan hesitated.

"Can I come in?"

Sock nodded and opened the door wider.

"No, I have to do it like you do. You have to say it."

Sock pursed his lips. Then said, "Come in."

Jonathan entered the apartment. It was dark, all the windows were covered in thick blankets and duct tape. The TV was on some sitcom, providing a laugh track to their encounter. Clothing and other items were stacked by a duffel bag. It looked like Sock was packing.

Jonathan stopped by the dinner table. It was covered in toys and puzzles, including his Rubik's cube.

He turned to Sock, who was silently watching him.

"Are you a vampire?" Jonathan asked, pulling his parka closer around him.

Sock shrugged. "I need blood… to live."

"How old are you really?"

"Twelve. But I've been twelve for a very long time."

Jonathan looked around the apartment. "Where's your dad?"

"He's not my dad," Sock said. "He… he died."

Jonathan continued examining the table. From a stack of papers he pulled a photo booth strip. It was Sock, just like he looked now, with another boy, dressed like Jonathan's dad dressed in all of his childhood photos. The strip was sephia tone, and very delicate and old. Jonathan threw the strip down like it had burned him. That was all the confirmation he needed.

"I want to go," he said, marching for the front door.

But Sock spread out his arms in the hallway, blocking the exit. Jonathan hovered nervously before him, looking between Sock and the door.

"What are you going to do to me?"

Sock looked pained. He moved out of Jonathan's way, trying for a smile, but Jonathan just pushed past him.

"I told you I would never be your friend," Sock called after him.

Jonathan slammed the door.

Jonathan watched the news anchor report outside the hospital. There had been a fire on the fourth floor, two people died. Maybe it was a pyromaniac. Then he'd be able to clip out plenty of interesting news articles. He took a bite out of the dinner his mom had left.

"Hi Sweetie," said a note on the fridge. "Meeting with the lawyer tonight. Be home later. There's a pot pie in the freezer. I love you! God bless! Mom"

Jonathan answered a knock at the door. It was Sock. He moved out of the way so Sock could come in.

"I need to be let in," Sock said.

"Why?" Jonathan asked, not feeling particularly indulgent of Sock today. "Can't you just come in? Is there something in your way?" He was a vampire for God's sake. How could a threshold stop him?

Sock sighed and walked carefully into the apartment. As Jonathan watched, he began to shake violently. Sock gripped the edges of his skirt as blood began pouring out of his hair and nose. He looked up at Jonathan, eyes clear and pained.

Jonathan rushed to hug Sock. "No, no! Stop! Come in, come in!"

Sock sagged against him and the shaking stopped.

"What was that?" Jonathan whispered.

"I don't know," said Sock. "I just know that happens if I'm not invited in."

"What would have happened if I hadn't?" Jonathan thought of the pain in Sock's eyes and watched the blood coagulate under his nose.

"I knew you wouldn't," said Sock with a small smile.

When Sock got out of the shower, free of blood, Jonathan was nodding his head along to a record. They smiled at each other in the hallway. Sock adjusted the towel around his waist.

"You can have one of my mom's old dresses," Jonathan offered. He opened her room and pointed to the closet. Sock came out a moment later in a plain white dress. He spun once, laughing with Jonathan. Clearly he liked it.

The front door opened and Jonathan's mother called for him. He just about had a heart attack.

"Coming!" Jonathan shouted, pushing Sock down the hall into his bedroom. "I'm in my room!"

Sock jumped out the window while Jonathan closed the door. Jonathan leaned out the window, wondering where Sock could have possibly gone from there. Sock leaned out the window next to him. They stared at each other, Jonathan's heart pounding, then laughed. That was a close one.

When he was sure his mom was asleep on the couch, Jonathan snuck out the front door.

He woke up underneath his parka on the floor. It was still dark in Sock's living room, because of the blankets blocking the windows, but Jonathan knew it was morning. As he stretched, his hand brushed against a wooden puzzle. It was a stick with a bunch of rings on it. Sock had attempted to explain to Jonathan how to solve this particular puzzle last night, but Jonathan had only managed to get halfway through it before he fell asleep.

Sock had told him the truth. At least, some of it anyway. Jonathan knew every time Sock paused that he was deciding what to share and what to keep for himself. He decided not to pry too much, but there were some things he just had to know.

"What were you and your dad always fighting about?"

Sock put the puzzle down. "He's not my dad," Sock reminded him. "He didn't want to do it anymore."

"Do what?"

"Help me. He went out and got me blood while I stayed here." Sock fiddled with the puzzle. "It was on the news. He killed himself when they caught him so no one would find out about me." He whispered, "We fought, but he really cared about me. He was human, he got old, he got tired. He didn't want to do it anymore."

"Oh," said Jonathan.

"But it's okay," Sock reassured him. "People die all the time. It's what they do. I'll just miss him."

Jonathan leaned over and drew him into a loose hug. "I won't die. I'm here. You're friend… my boyfriend?" He suddenly remembered that late night encounter in his bed.

Sock hugged back. "I'm not a boy, Jonathan."

"You keep saying that. You're not a boy, you're not a girl. What are you?"

"When they… turned me," Sock began, slowly leaning out of the hug. "They took my…" He breathed deeply and gestured to his lap.

Jonathan gave him a puzzled look.

Sock looked frustrated. He said, "They cut me _down there_. They castrated me. They took part of me away."

Oh. _Oh_. Jonathan's hands instinctively went to his own lap. "Why?"

"It was part of the ritual. And I think he was just an evil man. He did this to a lot of children."

"The man who turned you?"

"Yeah. Two hundred years ago," said Sock. Then, with a small smile, "We made sure he never did again."

 _We_. So there were more vampires like Sock, eternally twelve, all over. Jonathan didn't know if he was comforted to know Sock wouldn't be entirely alone or anxious that the others might not be as nice as Sock.

"You can be whatever you want, Sock. You can be a boy or a girl. Or something else."

Sock shook his head. "I want to be nothing. It's how I feel."

"Would you be my friend? Not my boyfriend or girlfriend. My friend."

"I'd like that." Sock smiled.

Presently, there was a knock at the door. Jonathan rose to peek through the peephole, careful to make his steps silent. It was the police officer who had knocked on his door the other day. What was he doing here? Could he have found out about Sock? Jonathan hadn't really acknowledged it before now, but he knew a few of the homicides in the area must have been Sock's doing.

He backed away from the door, cringing when a floorboard creaked.

"Who's there?" the police officer shouted. "Open up! Police!"

Jonathan jumped when he kicked a corner of the door in.

With a few more well-placed kicks, the officer broke the door down. Entering the apartment gun first, he scanned the living room. Jonathan was nowhere in sight, hidden under a small side table at the mouth of the dark hallway.

The officer rushed through the two bedrooms, then crouched to examine the puzzle and Jonathan's jacket on the living room floor. Slowly, he rose to his feet again, gun aimed down the hallway, at the bathroom door.

Jonathan knew Sock was in that bathroom. He breathed through his mouth to try to not make a noise of distress.

When the officer entered the bathroom, Jonathan tiptoed down the hallway. As he watched, the officer pulled away a few layers of blankets in the bathtub, revealing Sock curled up inside. Asleep.

The officer put his gun back in his belt, clearly confused about a child sleeping in a bathtub. Noticing a small window above the showerhead, he reached up to peel away the cloth over the window, to let some light in.

Jonathan didn't think. He jumped into the hallway and shouted, "Don't!" All he knew is that Sock was in there and the windows were covered for a reason. He didn't want to see what would happen if sunlight was allowed into the bathroom.

He suddenly found himself at the end of the barrel of the officer's gun. For a moment, Jonathan thought he was going to be shot. He was going to get a bullet in his brain and he could never see Sock again. But the officer lowered the gun.

"Jesus, Mary, Joseph, kid!" He said. Shoving the gun in his belt, he opened his mouth to continue when Sock leapt onto his shoulders.

Sock was screeching terribly, so much that Jonathan had to cover his ears. It was over quickly. The two flailed around the bathroom, knocking into things. Sock got the groaning officer on the floor and Jonathan heard thick snaps, which his gut told him were the sounds of limbs fracturing completely. Sock was bent over the officer's neck, tearing into the soft flesh with his mouth until he opened a vein. There were sucking noises. Blood began pooling on the floor.

The officer locked eyes with Jonathan and raised a shaky hand towards him, pleading for help. Jonathan reached out, gaze on the hand slick with blood. He reached further, close enough to grab the officer's hand, and grasped the door handle instead, pulling the door shut. He backed away from the spray of blood across the backside of the door, hands on his ears so he could no longer hear the sucking, choking, breaking sounds. The sounds of Sock eating the officer alive. So he could pretend for a moment that this wasn't happening.

With a high pitched squeak, the bathroom door opened. Jonathan had again shut his eyes, so he didn't see Sock approach. Even with his ears covered, he could hear the floorboards groan.

Sock reached over Jonathan's shoulders and pulled him into a hug. The dress, his mother's old white dress, was red. He could feel warmth smearing across his face wherever Sock touched him. He'd never felt so much blood in his life. The slice in his finger paled in comparison. Jonathan moved his hands from his head.

"I need to go away, Jonathan," Sock said into his ear.

Jonathan shook his head. He didn't want Sock to leave. But he couldn't look at him. He couldn't forget the officer's eyes.

Sock leaned in to kiss Jonathan. He tasted the hot salty tang of blood when he kissed back.

There was no knocking on the wall that night.

Gym was in the pool today. Mr. Zoric was coaching Jonathan, helping him time his strokes and learn how to swim properly.

"One, two, three, breathe! One, two, three, breathe! Very good!" said the gym teacher.

Jonathan spit water out of his mouth. He'd prefer not to swim at all. But it did feel good to know that someone was proud of him.

Mr. Zoric was called away. Jonathan clung to the edge of the pool and readjusted his goggles.

Zack burst into the room.

"Everybody out of the water!"

Students looked at each other and made questioning sounds. But as Zack repeated the command and everyone noticed that the teacher was gone, they all cleared out of the pool.

Jonathan rushed around the locker room, fumbling with the code to his locker. He needed to dress and leave before Zack came back. He had no clue what had happened to Mr. Zoric or the gym class, but he wasn't going to stick around to see.

Zack appeared behind him. Still half naked, Jonathan reached into his locker, grasping the cold hard case of his flip knife.

"Hit them harder than you dare, then they'll stop," Sock had promised. It had worked last time.

He whipped out the knife and aimed it at Zack, who backed off. Donald and Kenny rounded the corner and did the same.

"I don't think you're going to do anything with that, little girl," Zack said. "Put it down."

Jonathan said nothing, swinging the knife towards Donald and Kenny for good measure. He could just imagine, Zack would jump on him, he would slice through his jacket into the fat of his stomach, where Jonathan knew it hurt the most because it was where Zack always punched and kicked him.

Zack jumped on him. Jonathan stiffened, mind racing through all of the actions he could take, and he dropped the knife.

What was he thinking? He couldn't stab someone.

Jonathan tried to run. But he bumped into Donald and Kenny, who grabbed his arms. Zack grabbed his ankles and they lifted him off the ground.

"I knew you couldn't do it, little girl!"

Jonathan screamed and struggled like he never had before. But no one would come. No one ever came. He hoped whatever they were going to do to him this time would let him walk away afterward.

They dunked him in the pool. When Jonathan resurfaced, sputtering, he met eyes with Zack's older brother, Jimmy, who was crouched at the edge of the pool.

Jimmy gripped Jonathan's hair, giving his head a hard shake.

"Look at me!"

Jonathan tried to blink the chlorine sting out of his eyes, squinting at Jimmy. His chest rose and fell quickly—he was trying and failing to ward off hyperventilation.

His folding knife flashed into his line of vision. Jimmy leveled the blade at Jonathan's left eye. The submerged pool lights flickered across his face, turning his grim smile into a wobbly, dark grin.

"We're going to have a little contest," he said, gesturing with the knife. Jonathan tried to shrink away but Jimmy pulled on his hair again, bringing tears to Jonathan's eyes. "If you can stay under for… three minutes. I'll only give you a little nick on your cheek. If you can't…" Jimmy pulled Jonathan closer, relishing in the fear in his eyes. "I take out your eye."

Jonathan let out a shuddering breath. There was no way Jimmy was human. He glanced at the boys behind Jimmy. Zack looked determined. Donald and Kenny refused to look at Jonathan. They weren't going to help him.

"This is what you get for splitting my little brother's ear. Take a deep breath," Jimmy instructed. Just as Jonathan began inhaling, he shoved his head underwater.

Jonathan struggled, albeit slowly because of the water. Eyes squeezed shut, he couldn't see but could feel Jimmy's hand still gripping his hair, keeping him under the water. It was quiet aside from the sound of his flailing limbs. He thought he heard voices from above, but they quickly died off.

Was it a minute? Was it two? Air escaped his mouth in big bubbles. He could feel his lungs collapsing, begging him to swim to the surface for air.

More bubbles poured out of his mouth. There was no way he could hold his breath for three minutes. There was no way he'd survive this. Jimmy, Zack, and their cronies would drown him. Jonathan was going to die.

There was a crashing sound and a screech so loud, Jonathan could hear it clearly under the water. Something splashed into the water behind him. Before he could turn to look, something else fell into the water by his head. Jonathan backpedaled hard—it was a head. Red spread through the water from his other side.

The pressure finally let up on his head. Jonathan kicked and grasped at the water, rising quickly to the surface. He threw his upper body over the ledge of the pool, pressing his nose into the wet cement, gasping and sobbing for air. People were yelling, he could still hear the screeching, but he wasn't paying any attention. Air was more important. His chest ached like it had been crushed. In those moments, he promised to himself he was never swimming again.

The noises stopped. Two bloody bare feet entered his vision. That's when Jonathan knew.

He looked up at Sock, mouth open to keep inhaling. Sock was, again, covered in blood. There were things behind him, bits of body, chunks of flesh, dismembered limbs. Jonathan didn't look. He just kept his eyes on Sock and smiled.

He'd never been more glad to be alive.

They'd been on the train for a few hours now. The station employees had been a little skeptical of an unaccompanied twelve year old with a giant trunk, but he had the money for a ticket and a forged form from his mom, so they let him get on.

Jonathan looked at the hole punched in his ticket. The ticket collector had already come by. He hadn't had to pay for the trunk, which sat in the foot space of the empty seat next to him.

A couple knocks came from the trunk.

 _Hi_ , said Sock.

 _XO_ , said Jonathan. Hugs and kisses.

He went back to staring out the window. The sun rose, bathing his face in blinding light. Sock couldn't be in the sun, so Jonathan would carry him around in the trunk. They were going away, starting a new life. Somewhere without Zacks and Jimmys and divorcing parents. Somewhere with Sock, who had done nothing but protect him and care about him since they met.

That first meeting at the jungle gym was so far away now. The only time Sock had lied to Jonathan was when he said he would never be his friend.

He unwrapped a Now & Later and popped it in his mouth, chewing and humming the jingle.

With a friend—his best friend, his only friend—Jonathan would go anywhere. Together, they would find a better life.

They'd be together forever. Jonathan would make sure of that.


End file.
